D-Day

Last Thursday was a D-Day for me; "D" as in "dress," as in "dry," as in "done." I wore a dress to work, solidifying what has been a gradual trend--I don't need to pump or express milk in any way while I'm at work. I still do nurse a little at home now, when C. bumps her head, when she wants some extra nighttime snuggles, but all-in-all, she's more interested in exploring than nursing. The bottle of cow's milk easily goes with her when she needs to check out the next big thing. And, as C. is my second and last baby, this is the near-end of my stint as a lactating momma.

In many ways, this is a good thing. Nursing is hard work. I've been the all-night diner (to paraphrase the Sears' Breastfeeding Book) for many, many months. I haven't had a good night's sleep in years.

J. was a nursing fanatic. She decided to wean from the bottle (which M. used to give her pumped breast milk on my work days) at around 6 months and wouldn't use a sippy cup until around 16 months. This meant that at the height of summer, she wasn't drinking anything on the days I was at work. Therefore, when she was an all-night nurser, I didn't feel that it was safe to set any limits until she was about a year or so. Weaning finally happened when she was 20 months old, because I was almost four months pregnant with C. and incredibly sick.

C. has been much more easy-going about the whole thing. She was a nursing pro from the get-go. She latched on perfectly in the labor and delivery room, twice. However, she has always been fine with taking a bottle of breast milk. I was SO relieved when it became clear that I wasn't going to be the only option for this one.

But, then that led to it's own problems, I think. Without constant on-demand nursing my supply started to dip when she as around nine or ten months (likely due to my Mirena monkeying with my hormones), and we ended up supplementing with formula. This was so very, very hard for me. I have read pretty much every page of each Mothering Magazine delivered to my mailbox and have been well indoctrinated into the "Breast is Best" mindset. My scientific, critical self as well as my emotional, nurturing self both really do legitimately buy into this, but I have been troubled by the impact of this perspective and campaign on those who can't or chose not to nurse. I've seen several women really struggle with this, and the real pain that results just can't be useful to moms or babies or society at large. Finding Hanna Rosin's article, "The Case Against Breast-Feeding" (which I found, by the way, because of angry critics in Mothering), was really helpful to me. While I don't agree with all that she says, she helped to shed light on much of the rhetoric and politics that surrounds the issue. I found Rosin's perspective a comfort when C. happily sucked down her first bottle of formula. More, though, I saw my baby, who had been a bit cranky for the last week or so, perk up because she was getting enough to eat. The change was needed.

So is this change. Pumping needed to be over. It was making it so I didn't have lunch breaks, couldn't talk to friends or colleagues for any length of time, and was stressing over the lack of milk that the activity was producing. And, I really missed wearing dresses. It was time, but there's still a bit of sadness and regret I feel even now writing this. And it's not really about losing the baby time with my kids--sure that's part of it, but that time is smoothly and delightfully moving into toddler and preschooler time. It's really about my own identity changing and shifting. This body will never be pregnant or nursing again. It will be a comfort and an anchor for my girls for many, many years to come, but I'm really out of the reproducing business. It's good; I don't want to do that anymore, but I spent a lot of time looking towards those experiences and now I don't know exactly what to look forward to in terms of my body's place in my life, in my dreams, in my future. Much more so than when I turned 30, I'm feeling older and uncertain. I'm really glad I love this wardrobe shift because the deeper stuff turns out to be really, pretty complicated.

Casting On

It's been so very long since I even tried to put words down to post and even longer since I've posted. The last few months have been so very busy and exhausting. When I look back, I can't exactly tell you what took up all the energy and time, but certainly it has to do with two spirited youngsters, a job listening to trauma 27 hours a week, a limited budget, stubbornness about making our meals from scratch and using cloth diapers, not enough sleep, and, oh yes, that pesky dissertation draft M. is trying to get mostly finished by the end of the month. Whew.

But, there's been lots of creativity and joyfulness throughout that time, too. And, often that has been what has taken me away from keeping up with this blog. When I have to choose between writing here and being in my life, there really isn't any contest. But, now in this new year, I'm interested in seeing whether I might be able to bring the blogging back in without having to give up important time I need for other things. We'll see.

Today seemed like a good day for it. I've been thinking about new things, new possibilities lately. Of course, January is often a time of talking about new beginnings, resolutions and the like. In the past, January as a time for reflection has never grabbed me much, however, January was when my lovely C. was born last year, and now that the anniversary of the month of her birth is upon us, I'm finding myself doing a lot of looking back and looking ahead.

Beginnings are hard, though. Knitting recently reminded me of this. I just finished a goofy cowl for myself, made out of yarn raveled from a sweater bought at the Salvation Army the other day.

The knitting was easy and brainless, but the casting on was vile. The needles I was using didn't help, but I've always hated casting on. I don't like the counting, I don't like having to guess how much yarn to start with (I always get it wrong the first time and sometimes the second and third. Grrr.), and I really hate the work of the first row, when the yarn is tight around the needle and not interested in getting started on whatever I'm proposing. (Here's the pattern--it's beautiful in cashmere, don't you think? The reused synthetic took it for a bit of a weird turn, but it's comfy and warm and I didn't bring anything new into the world.)

I've been thinking about the beginnings of therapy, too, lately. After a break of three weeks, many of my existing clients and I have to figure out some of the choreography of our therapy time anew, and I've taken on a handful of new clients in the past month or so. So, there have been many sessions that also feel like casting on--I haven't yet found that comfortable flow of the work yet. It is exciting to be in these new or renewed relationships and brings a freshness to the work, but it keeps me on my toes and yearning, some, for the relative ease of humming, purposeful therapy work. It can be tiring.

Which reminds me of a new beginning of today. Believe it or not, I went to the gym today. I know. Sounds crazy, doesn't it? Over the holidays, our family joined the local YMCA, and I've been really excited and anxious about it. So, Saturday, J. and I tried out the "family fun pool" (it was, in fact, true to it's name). Today, however, I really pushed the new start thing. I took advantage of the free childcare rooms; J. and C. both played in the childcare area while I worked out a little. This was a BIG THING--C. had never been cared for by anyone but me, M. or our mothers. However, C. did not seem to get the memo about this, and, true to her take-on-the-world nature, she didn't seem to have a bit of a problem with it. So, it amazingly was a new beginning with little fanfare.

I hope that putting words to the page will prove to be a similar experience in this coming year. I hope to cobble together some record of my adventures, my ponderings, and my creations. We'll see how it goes...

Time for School!

This was the end of the first full week of preschool! Just a little over a week ago, J. finished up her time at daycare, with some sadness about saying goodbye, and, with some anxiety about change, she started the phase-in to her new school.

Her new school is a local, small, Montessori preschool. I ended up choosing this school because I got a good feeling about it when I came to observe, their schedule and location worked for us, and the bits I had learned about Montessori teaching appealed to me.

The weeks leading up to this transition were a bit rocky, and, frankly, these past two weeks have been less than smooth. For all of us, figuring out a new schedule has been challenging, and transition always means more tantrums and trouble just doing the normal, every day things. M. has been worried that he will not have enough time for his work, and I've been fretting about this, that, and the other.

But, despite the difficulty of something new, I'm thrilled we've made this choice. J. is already blossoming. She's displaying new skills and insights daily. I swear, there is this wisdom that she's exhibiting that wasn't there before. I'm not sure how 6 days of preschool could make some of these changes so fast, but I'm really seeing some neat stuff. Also, we've been learning more about Montessori methods, both through reading materials sent home and through hearing about J.'s days, and I'm really delighted that I happened upon it. It really suits her style of learning--she's one to get absorbed in a task and follow it through for a good length of time. She also LOVES carefully completing household tasks. It is a really good fit.

I have always loved fall and the excitement of the beginning of school. But, for quite a few years now, I haven't really been involved in a school-starting ritual. Now, I'm delighting anew. This new perspective and the excitement of my beloved little girl exploring and learning in new ways is just intoxicating!

7 months...

...and counting! I'm completely, head-over-heels in love with this little person who engages with the world more and more everyday. It is such a delight to be her momma.

Between potty training J., diapering and rediapering the rapid-fire pee-er who is my younger daughter, and cleaning up after all of this (endless loads of laundry), I feel like my life is primarily dedicated to those things diaper-related. So, of course this tendancy has extended into the realm of my sewing.

After creating some underpants for J., I then turned to C.'s collection of undergarments. C. is, well, not what you'd call a petite baby. Although she was only 6 lbs, 15 oz. at birth, she sprinted into nursing and then into eating solid foods, and is now a lovely, hearty 18 lbs, 1 oz. at 6 months. Consequently, the infant prefolds no longer fit, but our bigger diapers are wearing out and still are needed for J. at night. Also, the infant ones are in really good shape, so I have been trying to adapt them to the new situation.

I first tried sewing two together. Not so good. Too thick for her to be comfortable and difficult to get dry. We figure we'll use these for overnight--she doesn't need to be able to move around much and more layers to soak is good. But, not the solution I was looking for.

So far, this is the best I've done. I sewed a piece of flannel on top. It is nice and soft on her back and snugs in nicely around the waist. The Snappi doesn't grab the flannel as nicely as it does a diaper, but it's good enough for us now. I'm still plotting, though.

So diapers on my mind...

Throughout all of this I've been stewing a bit. Yes, I realize that I'm a bit obsessed with cloth diapers and blogging about my adapting them does take it a bit far, perhaps. But, I am not a weirdo for using them, and, frankly, I'm tired of being made to feel like I am. I do understand that disposables have their uses. We do use them much of the time when we travel. On the days when J. goes to daycare, we don't get much of a choice. I know that lots of my precious time is taken up by laundry, and many people don't have this time or the easy access to a washer and dryer we have. We're lucky, also, to live in a part of the country with abundant water. So, I get it. It's not easy and not practical much of the time for many people.

However, it is so seldom that I encounter people who see using cloth as the preferred choice, even if they do not feel they are in a position to use them. I so often get weird looks and incredulous questioning. Really, though, what is so strange about using cloth to diaper your child? Isn't this what most of the world is doing now and what all of the world did just a few short generations ago? Why does our culture fall so hard for disposable everything?

As I think (and rant) about this, I think about what a challenge it is to shift paradigms. To change the thinking back to reusability and conservation seems like such a herculean task. We have been taught to think that being able to throw something out is of primary importance and that dirt and mess are to be removed from our homes at any cost (that is filling landfills, exposing ourselves and our kids to toxic cleaners, etc.). It can be so frustrating to chip away at these strongly held beliefs and try to change the thinking.

As one who has examined social change as a part of my education, I know that this sort of thing takes time and moves incrementally. But, I get tired of waiting. I wish greater numbers of others saw cloth diapers (and other environmentally conscious choices) as I see them: an act of love for my kids and an investment in their world.

Underpants!

After much fanfare and talk, I finally have made (and taken a photo of) J.'s new underpants!! Actually, the making occurred a couple of weeks ago; taking a picture during daylight hours proved to be a bit trickier! Where does the time go?

I'm pretty pleased with them. I bought and used this pattern, and then went into our old t-shirt stash and to the Salvation Army in search of soft, stretchy t-shirts. They're quite cute, and I was able to add some extra padding to absorb accidents (although I'm still experimenting with this part). They were a bit time-intensive, but they work the way I want them to, they were not made in China (or at least in this incarnation they weren't), and J. has a concrete reminder that her momma is helping her with this transition. Hopefully she won't be horrified when she realizes at age 16 that her mother made her underwear when she was 2. But, I'm hoping to do many more loving and embarrassing things before then, so she'll just have to add this one to the list!

The quilt, by the way, was made by Oma. However, in not too long (before 2010 anyway), I hope to post a picture of the quilt for C. I'm finally almost finished with!

There are so few things that take a short time. In both my home and work worlds, the work is ongoing and the terrain tough a lot of the time.

At home, we've been traveling on the "potty train" for some time now. It's a bit of a rocky journey. J. is so clearly torn between being a more dependant, younger toddler (even a baby) and being a more self-sufficient little girl. She both relishes the independence she's discovering but fights it tooth and nail (at the top of her lungs, many times). She delights in the tasks she is now able to master, but also loves to hear stories of when she was a baby, especially those that involve her having mommy milk.

Mommy milk is the other journey. C. has lately begun to do as her big sister did before her--she's been requesting a snuggly snack pretty much every two hours (at best) all night long. I'm sleep deprived and often cranky. But, I'm stubborn about wanting C. to have breastmilk rather than formula and really attached to the idea of providing nourishment and comfort when my baby communicates that she wants and needs it. But, these nights are long ones! I know that this, too, will pass, as it did with J., and that I will remember the closeness with my girl long after the memories of this sleep deprivation have faded. I know that C., too, is working on the tension between closeness and discovery; I'm pretty sure that the seemingly constant desire to snuggle with Mommy will decrease in intensity when she's feeling a bit more secure in this moving around on her own in the world thing (her rolling is now a well-practiced art and I think crawling is right around the corner!).

So, too, are the tasks at work a part of a longer journey. The hurt that many of my clients have experienced was perpetrated over years; of course, healing and growth will take time. The week to week work in therapy can feel endless and without gains, at times. Like the challenges at home, the work in therapy does not always go smoothly and can be exhausting. The end result (or something like that) is worth it, so worth it, but the road is tough.

This is why I consider EMDR (Eye Movement Desensitation and Reprocessing) to be such a gift lately. I was trained in the treatment method several years ago, now, and have used it here and there in since then. But lately, I've been working it into my practice much more frequently--taking cases that it fits for as a primary treatment approach and working to move other clients into phases of work that fit the method.

I have always enjoyed EMDR for its simplicity and its bottom-line belief in the client as the expert in his/her own healing. But, these aspects are even more important to me now. I don't have to be "on" as much as I do in talk therapy. I can be a much more quiet witness. I'm active and thinking, but my recent low energy level is not a problem.

Even more important, especially in these days of fatigue on the long journeys of parenthood, is the miraculous nature of EMDR's successes. This stuff works. Recently, I had the honor of witnessing several clients find, after only a few sessions of processing, that they were able to visit memories without distress and pain. After only a few sessions! It is just amazing to have a tool that makes people feel better in a relatively short period of time. If only it worked for teething.